


Prevention

by 1AbbyNewth5



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Happy Ending?, Other, Roof, Suicide Attempt, Warfstache saves the day, nameless reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 15:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1AbbyNewth5/pseuds/1AbbyNewth5
Summary: My first try at a POV reader thing! Loosely based off of this Deadpool comic: https://imgur.com/gallery/2eKh1





	Prevention

It’s midnight, in the middle of a city. Strangers and buildings, as far as the eye can see. All probably wouldn’t be able to understand my problems. Or help me if they do. Might not be worth asking for help anyways. My feet are right at the edge of the top of a garbage apartment. Eviction. Great. It’s not like I would go far in life anyway. I left a foot up. Can I…? What if I just…?

     “Don’t fall,” a slurred voice suddenly said from behind me. “You’re really gonna hurt yourself that way, don’t you know?”

I turn, and I see a tall-ish man; Korean, bright brown eyes, black fluffy hair with faded dark pink tips, VERY animated eyebrows, a bright pink, curled up mustache, yellow buttoned shirt, tan pants, pink bowtie and suspenders, and a colorful pair of cushion shoes. Huh… I swear, I’ve seen this guy on TV before…

     “Yeah, I get that a lot,” the man shrugged, smirking. Wha… What the hell?! “Oh! I get THAT a lot from people as well, I’m sorry… miss… or mister…?”

… “(Miss/Mister/Neither).”

     “Ah, my apologies,” the man replied. “I always want to make sure, but I’ve heard it can be a bit rude… What’s so wrong with being a little bit curious?”

     “I dunno,” I say. “Sensitivities, I guess.”

The man hummed, and plopped on his bottom at the edge of the building, right next to me. What is this guy doing here?

     “Was feeling lonely,” the man said. “I have a detective friend that I always help catch a bunch of crime lords and robbers and ‘murderers’, but the crime rate has been pretty low around here, so he’s just off solving regular, _boring_ old mysteries about some missing diamond or something. And sitting on a roof, watching a bunch of people stroll along makes me feel less lonely. Lots of funny little stories you could make up for a bunch of strangers down there.”

Huh. Never thought of it that way.

     “Well… you think you can feel less lonely somewhere else?” I ask, slowly. I hope I asked that correctly. He seems like the kind of person that would get angry pretty easily. “I’m… one of those rare types of people that _want_ to be alone.”

The man frowned. “You don’t think I know what you were intending to do before I said a mere word? I know your type, chap. I know you’d probably expect a _normal_ person to sit next to you on the top of an evicted apartment building, and say something much more sophisticated and profound to make you feel better, but… I suppose you just attract weirdos only. Must be destiny.”

The sound of cars and people passing by filled our awkward silence. At the edge of my eye, the man scooted closer to me.

     “The name’s Wilford Warfstache~” he said, with such suaveness. For some reason, that got on my nerves. “What’s your name-?”

     “Don’t,” I interrupt, almost a bit too harshly. Wilford Warfstache’s head tilted, looking up at me.

     “What?” he asked, almost innocently.

     “Just… don’t…” I just realized I didn’t really know what I wanted him to stop doing. I kneel down on my knees. “I just want to be alone.”

Wilford Warfstache just kept looking at me. Not in a creepy way, but…

     “I’m sorry,” he suddenly said. “I flake out a lot. I’ve just been trying to guess what’s been eating you up. Is it a baby? Money? Parents that don’t understand who you really are? Didja marry a succubus, and she’s trying to ruin your life?”

… It was the third one.

     “Are you TRYING to make me jump??” I ask loudly. Wilford Warfstache’s hands waved defensively.

     “No, no, no!” he exclaimed. “Never! Though, I have been told that I can make people _very_ uncomfortable~”

He grins. Goddammit. I just want to be left alone. Why can’t this guy just leave?! Uncontrollably, my lip starts to quiver a bit. I didn’t notice it before, but Wilford Warfstache’s voice went soft. He tried resting a hand on my shoulder, but I kept flinching him off.

     “Hey, whoa, hey, hey,” he started. “I’m terribly sorry if this night isn’t what you expected, friend. Say, have you ever went to a dance pub? I can rent us a private one, and we’ll both just talk our worries away. My detective friend and I would do it all the time when he doesn’t have work-”

     “What is WRONG with you?” I ask, feeling tears coming out of my eyes. “Can’t you see I’m feeling like complete garbage?? Stop pretending to care, and go away!!”

Warfstache reclined his hand back. He looked hurt. I hide my face with my arms, hugging my knees. Wind started to pick up all around my hair, but I had no care in the world to fix it. I suddenly felt an arm around my back to my shoulder. It was Warfstache, obviously.

     “If hugs aren’t your thing, I can stop,” he said. “As much as I’d hate to.”

I just let the man keep his arm around me for a while. I could feel his grip on me tighten slightly. I thought about that pub Warfstache mentioned…

     “You can rent us a private pub if you want,” I said.

 

The ride to the pub was taking a while, mostly because of the traffic, and all the trouble Warfstache almost got ourselves in by trying to truck through it with his motorcycle, but we eventually got… wait…

He drove me to a hospital.

     “I thought… we were going to that dancing pub…”

     “Oh, please,” Warfstache said. “I’m smart enough to know I’m idiotic enough that I can’t help you, especially after that stunt you tried to pull.”

     “But…” I started. I began to feel emotional out of nowhere… again. “I thought we were just… gonna talk, and… probably have a few drinks, and…”

Warfstache rested a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t flinch him off. “And that all sounds lovely. Maybe when you’re feeling better, we could set up an actual private dance pub time. Maybe Abe can come along with us. But now, it’s not the perfect time for that. I messaged the staff, they’re expecting you.”

Both Warfstache and I look through the windows of the hospital. I felt an uncomfortable moth in my stomach. Hospitals were never my forte, and…

     “What if I don’t want to go inside?” I asked. “Are you going to make me?”

Wilford sighed quietly. “I… don’t know. I don’t think I have to, because… something is making you want to go in there.”

He peered over his shoulder, looking at me. His eyes were serious, but kind, and well-meant.

     “Look,” he started. “I’m terribly sorry for whatever it is that you’re going through. And I don’t think you’re crazy because of it. Never let anyone tell you so. You just need help. And I am _not_ the right person to help you.”

As soon as I hopped off his motorcycle and… nervously… headed over to the front of the door, Wilford ran over next to me.

     “I feel like the staff may need a physical witness to confirm what you were trying to do.”

I cock an eyebrow at him. Wilford took a small breath through his teeth. “I’ve been in court a lot.”

Heheh…! Frickin’ oddball. Wilford smirked under his mustache. He probably heard that.

Before a doctor began to lead me to a room, Wilford poked my shoulder, and handed me a small piece of paper;

“For us to keep in touch~

867-5309

\- Wilford Warfstache 💙

(I will visit tomorrow, if I remember!)”


End file.
